


Trailing sounds to the end

by hazelandglasz



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Fluff and Angst, Gay Bashing, Ghost Blaine, Hate Crimes, M/M, Please Don't Hate Me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-09
Updated: 2014-10-09
Packaged: 2018-02-20 12:57:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2429672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazelandglasz/pseuds/hazelandglasz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anonymous asked<br/>Prompt: you’re a ghost and i’m a human and somehow we fall in love with each other AU (for Klaine with ghost!Blaine and human!Kurt, please?)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story completely wrote itself out of my control, and I was sobbing when I finished it!

_"Did you really think we would let you fags ruin our party?"_

Blaine wishes that those weren’t the last words he heard before leaving his body behind, still under his attackers’ hits and kicks, he really does.

Those are the words he will never forget.

But while he knows that he could have done so much, could have  _been_  so much, he finds the silver lining in his new condition.

No body, no plane ticket needed to travel.

So Blaine goes around the country, around the world, keeps on learning, appearing to the Human plan whenever he feels like it—mostly to kids, who are not so afraid of him as adults—but he feels a pull to the city he had always wanted to live in.

So after a while—he couldn’t tell you how long exactly, time becomes meaningless when you have no bodily function—he settles down in New York.

In Brooklyn, to be exact.

He loves watching the neighborhood change under his eyes, the street artists taking the walls and turning the streets into an art gallery open for all to see, which slowly brings a new crowd to the borough.

Blaine is sad that he can’t be a part of that change, of course, but he’s here, and that’s all that matters.

And then Kurt moves in Bushwick, and his life tips on its axis for the second time.

—-

Kurt has always considered himself to be a rational person.

He doesn’t believe in God, or in Fate, or in Magic, or anything even remotely supernatural.

There are no miracles, there are no guardian angels, and there are no ghosts.

Of that, he has always been convinced. That is, until he moved in with Rachel in a loft in Bushwick.

It’s not that he starts hearing chains rattled in the middle of the night, or haunting sounds, nothing that cliché, thank you very much.

It’s more like he never feels entirely alone, even when he knows that Rachel is not here and that there is no burglar (thank God for that).

One afternoon, Kurt helps Ms. Taubmann with her grocery shopping, ready to take his leave and go back to his Project Runway Marathon when she takes a hold of his wrist. “Have you met Blaine yet?”

Kurt shrugs because no, he has not met Blaine yet. Whoever Blaine is. “Not yet,” he replies, “is he your son?”

The old lady lets out a very undignified snort. “I wish,” she says, “no, it’s the building’s ghost—has been here for the past couple of years. Lovely boy, really, you’ll see.”

Kurt returns to his marathon convinced that the old lady has gone off her kilter for good when he feels it.

Like someone sitting down next to him on the couch, even when he can clearly see that it’s all empty.

A ray of sunset comes in as he looks around, and that’s when he sees him.

Translucid in the soft orange light coming from the window, there is a young man—barely older than a teenager, cheeks still soft with baby fat—sitting and looking at the television with undisguised interest.

Kurt’s jaw is reaching for the planetary core at this point, and he tentatively lifts a finger to … poke, he supposes, the specter.

"Excuse me?" the …God, he can’t even think the word—the  _ghost_  says, looking at his finger that is probbing somewhere around his chest. “Oh, now you see me, sure.”

"What?"

"When I tried to keep you from drinking the milk after Rachel’s latest beau drank from the bottle, you couldn’t see me," the ghost says, looking a little bit miffed,"but when I just want to watch some good ol’ Project Runway, now you see me and we need to have that conversation?"

"We can talk afterwards", Kurt replies, still a little bit deezy.

The ghost beams at him, and Kurt doesn’t know what is more luminous, the look on his face or the Sun reflected on the metal vase he bought last week. “We can? Oh, awesome.” They’re both silent, before the ghost turns back towards Kurt. “I’m Blaine, by the way.”

Kurt nods, thinking that maybe Ms. Taubmann is not that coocoo. And than he could use a stiff drink.

—-

Past the shock that ghosts are real but don’t often chose to interact with the human plan, Kurt finds Blaine to be, indeed, lovely.

The story of his early demise has Kurt (and Rachel, when she comes home to a sobbing Kurt and Blaine trying to comfort him with ghost-pats on his head) in tears and volunteering at the LGBT shelter down the street.

But there is more to Blaine than his death, Kurt realizes, growing attached to the friendly presence around the apartment. Blaine is smart, and he is a good listener, and he has a solid sense of humor—a little bit nerdy, sure, but Kurt finds it charming.

Rachel notices that, and she gets worried. It’s not that she doesn’t like their friendly “roommate”, but she can see the way Kurt hurries to come home—to come back to Blaine, really.

She can see the way Kurt looks at Blaine’s ethereal body and face when the ghost explains to them how to make the perfect soufflé, with just egg whites and cheese.

She can see the way Kurt is falling in love with Blaine, and somethign tells her—a something called a tipsy Ms. Taubmann—that Blaine has never stayed with any tenant for so long.

If Blaine was alive, that would be perfect, and she would just look at them fall in love. But as it is, there is no possibility for them, is there?

"Kurt," she starts an evening when Blaine has drifted to Mr. Pardo’s apartment because the old Argentinian man feels lonely and Blaine considers it to be his duty, "what are you doing with Blaine?"

Kurt keeps his eyes firmly on his keyboard, typing away, but the sudden flush of his neck is telling. “What do you mean?”

Rachel slams the laptop closed. “You know exactly what I mean—you can let yourself be deluded any longer!”

"How am I deluded?" Kurt retorts, standing up and crossing his arms over his chest. "I like spending time with him, he makes me feel—like i’m something to be cherished, to be protected," he says, his voice turning soft. "What more could I want?"

"A touch, a kiss, something tangible!" Rachel replies, worrying her lower lip. "You can’t possibly satisfy yourself with so little, Kurt."

"So little?" Kurt repeats, looking like she just slapped him. "Rachel, he cares for me, and I love him—what is so little about that?"

"You love me?"

They both turn their heads to see Blaine appearing in the soft glow of the candles Rachel lightened earlier.

Kurt opens and closes his mouth a couple of times, and Rachel takes it as her cue to go.

Blaine comes to stand closer to Kurt. “You love me?” he repeats, voice so soft Kurt can almost feel it on his skin.

"I do," he replies, looking down, "and I don’t care that the best i’ll ever get is you ruffling the curtains next to me, or your reflection in the mirror when warm lights are on. I don’t care, because I love you no matter what!"

Blaine looks simultaneously shocked and elated, and he reaches forward, probably a knee-jerk reaction from his past life.

But Kurt does feel it, the touch of Blaine’s fingertips on his cheek and he lets out a wet giggle.

"See," he says, leaning into the ‘touch’, "that’s all I need."

They spend the night laying on Kurt’s bed, facing each other, Kurt trying to follow Blaine’s features with the tip of his finger, every detail suddnely clear as day in the warm darkness of his room.

The little freckles under Blaine’s eyes, his long eyelashes, the little dimple that appears when he smiles at Kurt, the way he scrunches his nose when Kurt boops his ‘nose’.

When Kurt falls asleep, he can almost feel Blaine’s arm around his waist.

But when he wakes up, there really is an arm around his waist, and he freaks out before falling off the bed.

"Blaine!" he calls, expecting his …friend? Boyfriend? Ghost lover? to appear and rescue him from whoever got in his room and decided to cuddle him, but it’s the intruder who replies.

"Kurt?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because I couldn't leave it there

_"Blaine!"_

Blaine doesn’t remember falling asleep, mainly because he hasn’t slept in five years.

But he does remember waking up, feeling … heavy, like Gravity has a pull on him again. More than anything, it’s Kurt’s call that awakens him from whatever slumber has gotten a hold of him.

"Kurt?"

Blaine almost falls off the bed in his shock.

He has an actual voice, that echoes and bounces against the walls.

He has a body, that could fall of the bed.

He has hands, that can feel the soft blanket under his body, because he has a body.

 

"Kurt?!"

Kurt’s eyes emerge and he looks like he’s toeing a fine line between fear and amazement.

"Blaine?" he asks, slowly standing up to sit back on the bed, a trembling hand reaching for Blaine’s.

"What happened?" Blaine asks, voice barely above a whisper because he can modulate his vocal chords to his bidding now, turning his hand on the blanket to offer his palm to Kurt.

"I don’t know," Kurt replies, amazement winning over fear as his fingers trace the lines of Blaine’s palm, pressing down on the skin, caressing the softer skin of Blaine’s wrist. "But I’m not sure I want to know, as long as I’ve-"

 _As long as I’ve got you_ , is left unsaid, and Blaine sits up and lifts his hand to properly do something he has only hinted at the previous night. His hand cups Kurt’s cheek, molding his hand to fit it and Kurt leans into the touch with a happy sigh and a tear.

"What if it’s temporary?" Blaine says, unable to keep his sudden fear for himself. He never expected to be given a chance, but now that he has it, he doesn’t want it to be taken from him.

Kurt opens his eyes to look at him, his hand covering Blaine’s over his cheek. “Then we make the most of it.”

"Of it?"

"Of as long as we get."

Blaine doesn’t have the time to question Kurt any further, for Kurt’s lips are on his and he’d rather do that, yes, that’s a fantastic idea.

—-

 They do end up doing more than kissing—as in, Kurt takes Blaine to have slices of cheesecake, to smell the air around the pier, to have coffee, their hands never leaving each other.

When they do go back to the loft, Blaine buries his nose in Kurt’s neck, deeply inhaling the smell of  _Kurt_ , his cream and soap and sweat all bundled up in something that is purely him, and he realizes that his ethereal self never truly managed to smell Kurt properly.

It’s like his nose was in some sort of cotton before—then again, he is, was, on a different plan.

"May I help you?" Kurt asks with a giggle, and Blaine only hums, rubbing the tip of his nose against the skin. "I knooow I said that I didn’t exactly need to touch you to be happy because I love you," Kurt says, his breath catching in his throat as Blaine presses his lips to his neck tentatively. "But this—this—this is good too, keep doing—oh yeah, just that," he manages before pulling Blaine’s face away from his neck for a deep, dirty kiss.

They end in Kurt’s bed, but they both seem to fight against sleep, fingers drawing patterns on each other’s skin as they exchange more kisses, soft pecks and deep kisses that take their breath away.

They manage to stay awake until dawn, and when he turns his head to look at Blaine who is hugging him from behind, Kurt can feel a sob building up in his throat.

Because the sunlight goes through Blaine’s arm once again.

"Oh, Blaine," he whispers, turning in Blaine’s weakening hold and Blaine opens his eyes—Kurt can tell that he’s been awake for a while, in the sad smile Blaine gives him.

"We made the most of it," Blaine says, brushing his fingers on Kurt’s cheek.

"I’m not saying goodbye to you," Kurt sobs and Blaine shrugs.

"I’m not going anywhere."

——

Blaine doesn’t go anywhere, and no matter how much Rachel tries to make him see that it’s not healthy, Kurt doesn’t go anywhere either.

Many, many years later, after a life filled with love no matter what some people may think, Kurt goes to sleep with Blaine’s smile the last thing he sees.

And when he wakes up, it’s with Blaine very tangible touch around him.

"Here you are."


End file.
